


Confessions of a Lovesick Cannibal

by sleepingmirrors



Series: Er Wird Dich Schon Nicht Fressen [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Cheating, Cheating Confession, Daily Dose of Feels and Fluff, Gentle Bath, Love, M/M, Trans Male Character, Trans Preston Garvey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 19:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12260925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepingmirrors/pseuds/sleepingmirrors
Summary: It's now or never. Preston Garvey doesn't deserve never.





	Confessions of a Lovesick Cannibal

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh. This is... short. Thankfully, this series is cut into scenes that take place all over the timeline.

 

You're so close to talking to Preston about you and Pickman. It's just that every time you look the man in his dark beautiful eyes your brain shuts down. It'd be your first possible argument as a couple, maybe even your last. You're so afraid of losing him. So damn afraid that your heart pounds like the galloping of horses. Hundreds of hooves slamming down and crushing your chest.

Sitting on your bed, you watch as Preston approaches the door through the warehouse windows in the walls.

"Hey, babe, you said you wanted to talk?" Preston looks so innocent, so devoted to the 'hero' of the Minutemen.

"Yes, I wanted to talk, darling."

Preston takes a seat in the Victorian couch and leans forward, elbows on his legs, patiently waiting.

You don't deserve him.

You rise from the bed, slowly removing his hat by the brim and kissing the tight little curls on his head, nose breathing in the sweet scent of chocolate mint.

"You're doing that thing I told you? Bag of mint leaves sewn in your hat?"

"Sure am! Don't mind smelling like a bundle of mint throughout the day. Plus, it keeps the stuff from devouring crops." Smiling, Preston raises his head to kiss you on the lips. His lips are so soft.

"Let's take a bath, first. The water should be hot and this bath soap smells like lavender."

"Lavender?"

"It's a pre-war flower. We found a small factory, we've been selling them like hot cakes."

"Nice!"

"You know what hot cakes care, right?"

"Not at all, but you do. They sound like a good thing." Preston laughed and you thought to yourself.

'I don't deserve him,'

You take his hand and help him up, walking down to the bathroom tucked away in a windowless room. You begin pouring the boiled bucket of water into the basin of rad-free water. Sure, you're mostly immune to the effects of radiation, but Preston isn't.

"Want me to wash you up first?"

"Haha, I wouldn't mind having your hands against me."

You snort and undress with him, eyes catching on the scars under his pecs for a mere second. You're happy that Preston is finally a little more comfortable in his own body.

"My eyes are up here, handsome."

He's so fucking handsome. So beautiful. Like a god.

Hot towel in hand, you rub a bar of soap against the cloth and gather a good patch of suds. He smiles and hums softly. You kiss his shoulder blade and you love how his hums stutter at the warmth wiping over his back. Dark wood skin, littered with more smaller scars.

"I'll keep you safe. People shouldn't have to fight for their life."

Preston's eyes crinkle from the strain of his lips. "That's why we're here; in support of the Commonwealth."

"Heh, by the people, for the people."

In this dark room, candle in the corner flickering, you are soothed by the scent of flowers and the light splashing of water. The air is humid from the steam only moments after you start boiling more water.

"Shall we continue, General? Don't want you to get cold standing there."

"Next to you? Never. Carry on, soldier." Nora would have loved Preston. If this was the past, he'd have had the love of two. Twice the love.

A deep sigh slips past your lips, plump and chapped. Preston doesn't even get to work on the blood and dirt caked onto your back before you open your stupid mouth. You tell him about Pickman. That you've been playing around with a serial killing artist that is a genius. 

 

"I love both of you."

 

He tosses his towel back in the basin and leaves. You don't even chase after him as he pulls on his robe and leaves.

"I should have told you earlier," you whisper. Tears in your eyes.

Preston Garvey, who makes you feel alive in this post-war graveyard, deserved so much more than betrayal.

You wash yourself down and make the slow trek back up to your room. Door on the handle, you hear Preston say, with a shuttering breath. "So... let's discuss this."

 

You don't deserve him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my work, feel free to leave a comment or kudos! Criticism makes a better writer, in my opinion. And gosh am I wretched.


End file.
